Thankfully fate had balanced out the nightmare equation slightly by placing my two best friends in this class, too. I usually spent the entire class period trying to forget she was in the room.īeing forced to sit between my mortal enemy and my ex-girlfriend every afternoon made seventh-period math feel like my own private Kobayashi Maru, a brutal no-win scenario designed to test my emotional fortitude.
It had been nearly two years since she’d dumped me for some wrestler from a neighboring school, but every time I saw those freckles across the bridge of her nose-or caught sight of her tossing that curly red hair out of her eyes-I felt my heart breaking all over again. Three rows to my right and two rows back, sitting just beyond the reach of my peripheral vision.Įllen was my first love, and we’d lost our virginity to each other.
That would have also explained why my ex-girlfriend, Ellen Adams, was in this class, too. It was almost as if the universe wanted my last semester of high school to be as hellish as possible. Until this year, when a cruel act of fate had landed us both in the same math class. And on a daily basis, I had to resist the urge to knock his teeth down his throat.ĭoug Knotcher and I had managed to avoid each other, for the most part, ever since “the Incident” back in junior high. Sayles, but he was still lost in his crossword, clueless as always-a fact that Knotcher took advantage of on a daily basis. He knew I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. It drove me nuts when Knotcher bullied Casey like this-which, I suspected, was one of the reasons Knotcher enjoyed doing it so much. A couple of Knotcher’s pals were watching from the back of the room, and they snickered each time he nailed Casey with another projectile, egging him on. The back of the poor kid’s hair was already damp with spit from Knotcher’s previous attacks. Knotcher had a stack of moist projectiles piled on his desk like cannonballs, and he was currently firing them at the back of Casey’s head, one after another.
Knotcher usually limited himself to lobbing verbal insults at the poor guy, but today he’d decided to go old-school and lob spitballs at him instead. Off to my left, Douglas Knotcher was currently engaged in his daily humiliation of Casey Cox, the shy, acne-plagued kid unfortunate enough to be seated in front of him.
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